Uhura had never been as deeply, existentially frightened as right now, watching her Captain and Mr. Spock disappear into the strange portal in pursuit of Dr. McCoy. But she didn't have the time to let the fear consume her. Not even to battle it. There was a flash, something red, an energy blast of sorts that made her grip Scott's arm even while he was gripping hers, both of them instinctively closing their eyes.
When Uhura opened hers again, she thought she must be hallucinating. Kirk and Spock were jumping through the portal, McCoy following.
"What happened, Sir?" Scott asked. "You only left a moment ago."
"We were successful," Spock replied evenly. The Captain didn't say anything. Uhura hadn't seen him with such an expression on his face since Gary Mitchell had died.
"Time has resumed its shape," the Guardian's voice said. "All is as it was before. Many such journeys are possible. Let me be your gateway."
Uhura didn't waste a second. She immediately called the ship and felt a dizzying sense of relief when Enterprise answered, asking whether the landing party was ready to be beamed up.
"Let's get the hell out of here," Kirk said shortly. Doctor McCoy no longer showed signs of his involuntary drugging, but his expression, too, looked like thunder. Whatever happened in the past couldn't have been good. But time was restored, the universe Uhura knew was back again. After she relayed the Captain's orders to the ship, she looked at Spock. There was a sense in her that she wanted to ask him something, but even while the transporter began reducing all of them into atoms, the thought disappeared.
It only returned to her much later, when Enterprise had left the planet's orbit, and Kirk had made a report for her to send to Starfleet, asking to declare this era of space a quarantined zone. She was with Spock in the recreation room, and he'd taken out the instrument Uhura had dubbed his Vulcan harp. By now, the crew had learned that they'd almost been wiped out of existence, and the universal mood was that of relief and celebration, though everyone understood that the Captain wanted to be alone and did not participate.
"Mr. Spock," Uhura said, "I've been wondering. Call it a vanity project, but these events have reminded me how precious each moment is. Not just the big ones. And how quickly time passes. Would you mind making a musical recording with me? I promise I won't share it with the rest of the fleet. Strictly for my personal archive. But I do think we play well together."
He raised an eyebrow, because of course he did. There was something comfortingly familiar about the gesture.
"There is no vanity in wishing to preserve art, Lieutenant," Spock said. "And you do have a beautiful voice."